Page 32 of Pregnant By the Russian Pakhan

“I don’t believe this,” he muttered, getting to his feet and now looking angry too.

“Believe it. And do us both a favor and get out,” she ordered in a chilling voice that brooked no argument.

It was a measure of how completely at home in his own skin Mikhail was that he didn’t even bother to pick up his clothes as he left. He just stalked out, stark naked, from her room. He didn’t bang on the door either. He just shut it as politely as he could.

When she heard the near-silent sound of the door hitting the doorframe, Mira let herself slide onto her bed and burst into tears. She wasn’t even sure why she was upset. She just knew that she had lashed out at him because, deep down, she wasn’t satisfied.

True, he had satisfied her body and made her come, but as silent sobs racked her body, she felt as though there was something she wanted from him that he was unable to give her. The worst part was, she didn’t even know what it was.

She just knew that only Mikhail could give it to her—just as soon as she could put a name to it.

Chapter 20 - Mikhail

“The boss is in a mood again,” Mikhail heard one of his men whisper.

“He’s been in a mood since the first night he met his wife,” another of his men countered.

“If you idiots don’t zip it, I’ll come out there and make you sorry!” Mikhail yelled. Silence fell immediately.

It had been all of three days since he’d seen either hide or hair of his errant wife, and not because she was avoiding him, but because he was avoiding her.

She’d made him feel foolish and pathetic after they had sex in her room the other night. He had been so hung up on their lovemaking that he’d been feeling happy and ridiculously satisfied, but all she’d been able to imagine was that he was thinking of Alena.

Despite his masculine boasts, he had never finished having sex with any one woman and felt the urge to have another round with her immediately. Something about Mira affected him in a way no other woman ever had, and he didn’t much care for the feeling. He felt like a sex-crazed teenager who couldn’t get enough of the girl he liked.

Mira was fast becoming like a drug in his system, or at least what he imagined a drug would be like, because Mikhail Nikolai never took any substance that would make him lose control.

But Mira…she made him lose control all right.

But the whole time he’d been basking in the euphoria of contentment, Mira had found something lacking in the way he touched her, which was why she’d convinced herself he was thinking about the viper-tongued Alena.

Mikhail had yet to meet a man who didn’t treasure his peace when it came to women. Alena was pretty, but she was a cheating whore with a core of bitterness and a tongue unencumbered by the dictates of good manners. He hadn’t wanted her since she had cheated on him.

But he wanted Mira so desperately that he was beginning to feel as though he had lost his mind. But he was determined to stay away from her and regain his control over himself, which was why he had not gone home in three days and three nights, choosing instead to stay at one of his clubs.

A shipment of arms had arrived the night before last and he’d been up almost all night supervising the unloading himself, even though he knew his men were more than capable of supervising it. When he finished, he’d gone to one of his casinos and gambled until he lost ten million dollars. The amount hadn’t fazed him, but his men had looked almost ill.

Now he was back in the same club where he’d met Mira for the first time, knowing that there was only one reason why he was there—Mira. If he couldn’t be around her, he wanted to be in a place that reminded him of her.

As though he had conjured her with his thoughts, she entered the club looking this way and that. She was dressed in a leopard-print shirt thrown over a pair of black jeans, topped by six-inch heels. She should look casual and ordinary, like any American girl, but the moment she stepped in, the atmosphere seemed to change. Hushed conversations started to spread all around as people began to either gossip about her or admire her.

He watched her, waiting for her to come to him, but suddenly his view of her was blocked by someone who came and planted himself in front of him.

Mikhail scowled at the man. “Unless you want to die tonight, get out of my face.”

The man lifted a gun and pointed it at him point-blank. “It’s you who will die tonight, amigo.”

Someone spotted the gun and screamed and people began to cower and take cover. Mikhail stared in furious disbelief at the gun aimed at him. What had the security guys at the gate been doing when this man snuck a .45 past them?

They had been pretty lax recently in the sort of people they allowed into his club. This was the last straw, he decided. They would all be severely punished and let go tonight.

Mikhail looked at Mira and gave his head a slight shake, telling her without words to stay back. She looked deathly pale.

“You were such a big hero the other night, beating me to a pulp over that lady,” the guy complained.

“Oh, date-rape-drug guy,” Mikhail said as recognition dawned. He was the same greasy coward who had tried to drop a drug in Mira’s drink the night he met her.

“Just for daring to show your face here again, I’ll really kill you this time,” Mikhail promised as he rose to his feet.

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